Skooma
by Nemo-Beatrice
Summary: During midnight, the Bravil guards raid the skooma den. Cyr was inside during this time and not completely stoned. Hearing the guards come, he quickly ran out of there as fast as possible. Cornered, he was not going down without a fight. Ungolim watched the small fight and assisted him by flinging a sword before he gets arrested.
1. Introduction

**A/N**: Cyr is male but agender. They/them/themself pronouns. Will allow he/him/himself pronouns too. This story might be a bit dirty. There will be sex scenes but it will be removed on this story. The uncensored will be on my Mibba.

Warnings: Drugs, mentions of sex, masturbation, murder, blood, some common ableist language, swear language, and... How about I just list the whatever blah just read.

Edit: Could you at least tell me what I did was wrong. I'm trying...

* * *

><p>It was somewhere around the middle of night when Cyr decided to go to the skooma den. Already he was looking filthy like a beggar. He struggled walking, even stumbling on smooth ground. There were a few guards posted around Bravil. They spied on him, knowing he was an addict. They could not follow him since Gellius Terentius, the count's son, was also a skooma addict.<p>

Eventually Cyr gets to the skooma den. The scent of skooma filled his lungs. He did not cough since he was used to it. He sat in his spot where he usually sat and took out his good skooma pipe. There he smoked the night away in peace for now. While sitting, he thought about Gellius. Yeah, he is pretty rude but yesterday, Cyr saw him in the den in the afternoon. He could not remember because he was high off skooma that time, but there was something about him that made his cock twitch. They were probably the same age as each other, and he had nice hair on him and rich as well. All Cyr could remember was his lips on the skooma he was drinking out of. A few minutes later, he thought about Gellius' lips on his dick. Just thinking about it made his hand go down to his crotch and started fondling himself. It was a shame rich boy was not here. The Dark Elf would have asked to do things with him. Oh how he hated lonely midnights.

Heavy footsteps were near the door of the Bravil skooma den. Cyr, the one who was not high right now, jumped up from his spot. He knew those boots were from the guards. Nobody comes to the skooma den dressed up in heavy armor. That and it would be too expensive to buy and repair. Cyr had no weapon on him. It looked like he had no choice but to run. How many of them were outside though?

As he got up, a huge heavy metal boot poked a hole through the wooden door. Oh no, it is the Bravil guards. They slid their foot out and opened the door. The skooma addicts would care less because they were stoned. Cyr stormed out of there before they could get a hold of him. He was running towards the gate until the night patrollers saw him.

Ungolim had heard the racket going on outside and put on his bloodied black robes. What could it be now? Was it Alval Uvani again? That man was just too aggressive with everyone. He ran outside and climbed on one of the rooftops to see what the commotion was about. The Wood Elf was used to seeing in the dark. From what he saw were a bunch of guards and a Dark Elf fighting near the Lucky Old Lady statue. Luckily, he carried a steel sword. That should at least help the Dark Elf. The elf on the rooftop threw the sword, aiming for the ground behind the other one. The sword flung across and spun. It landed right where Ungolim wanted it to be, behind the Dark Elf. No one seemed to notice Ungolim, fortunately. Now he will wait for them to go away.

Behind Cyr, a sword appeared out of nowhere. He was not going to jail without a fight. He took the steel sword. It was pretty heavy. The elf began swinging the sword and already hitting a guard in the face. He checked the point of the sword to see if he actually did hit him. There was blood on the blade. Now he is in serious trouble. One of the guards tried to charge into him but missed. Cyr was light on his feet. Instead of attacking the guard who charged, he wanted to kill the other who he slashed in the face.

"Hey, cocksucker," Cyr grabbed his attention.

Violently, Cyr grabbed his sword and began stabbing his face while he was on the ground. First he stabbed his eyes. The man screamed out loud in pain. One of the homeless people who roamed the streets investigated the echoing screams. There was a gush of blood coming from one of the guards who laid there not moving. On top of him was the Dark Elf who was still stabbing him. The beggar got out of there fast. The guard who charged at him grabbed Cyr's arm. Immediately, he dropped the bloodied sword.

"This should get you a life sentence, psychopath," they said to him.

"Fuck you!" he shouted.

Ungolim watched as they took the Dark Elf away. He would have recruited him, but it was much easier for him to go to jail instead of hiding him in his home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: So I forgot that the Bravil guards used light armor and not heavy armor. Well... I'm just going to pretend I'm a cartoonist and forget that mistake is there because.


	2. Chapter 1: Voices

**A/N**: Trigger warnings for common ableism vocabulary, sexism, I guess rape mention, adult words, blah. I think you get why the rating is "M". Still, I don't want to trigger anyone.

* * *

><p>Cyr awoke in a prison cell feeling a bit cold. He was still wearing his unwashed excuse for clothes. In his cell was a small window that shed some light. Was it morning already? "Wait, I did kill that guard," he thought. He stood against the cell door. The only person in front of him was another Dark Elf. He had white hair. He could not see much of him since he was surrounded by shadow. Later, the person from the opposite cell drew closer to his door. The other Dark Elf had bruises on his arms. There were some drops on blood on his shirt but not as much as Cyr had. The man had a black eye and a dry bloodied nose.<p>

"Damn, what did they do to you?" Cyr inquired.

"The only people in these halls are us. The guards come and go as they please," he answered. "And they will do the same to you."

"Do they do more than just that?" he continued asking more question.

"Whoa! By the Divines, I hope not," the other elf spoke. "I never heard of the guards doing that. What are you in here for anyways?"

"It's not what you're thinking," Cyr answered him. "I was doing skooma in Bravil. The guards raided and arrested us. Not sure why. I'll find out later once I get out of here. Where was I? Oh, I killed a pig before they could take me down."

"Wow… you're stupid."

"No, I'm Cyr and you're a _prison bitch_."

Highly offended by an extremely pejorative slang, Cyr's new friend hurled insults and threats at him. Their voices echoed through the prison hallways. The unnamed man in the prison cell in front of Cyr's was called Valen Dreth. Valen threatened to visit his non-existent wife. Cyr chuckled at his common threat.

"You're going to die in here. **You're going to die**!" Valen repeated his threat.

"I was dead the moment I came out of my mother's vagina," Cyr replied instead of choosing to ignore him.

"So obscene!" he commented. "Humph!"

Cyr sat over by the window. He placed his head against the cold wall of stone and sigh. He would prefer dying than rotting in prison. If the guards were not going to kill him, his paranoia might. Still… he can hear "You're going to die!" echoing in his head. It was not death he was afraid of but thinking about how painful his death would be like. Cyr could be like Valen Dreth. He sat there in tranquility until he heard the clanking of heavy metal armor. "They're here to kill me. I should've obeyed. Why am I an idiot?" he thought negatively. Trying to protect himself, he curled into a ball.

"Close that door behind us," ordered a silvery voice.

Cyr tensed up as each heavy footstep got closer to him. Right when they stopped, Cyr jumped quickly out of his ball. There were three people in fancy heavy armor and an old with a fancy robe. He knew who the old man was. The old man was Uriel Septim. He thought he was just imagining things. He planned to ignore them, assuming they were just illusions.

"Prisoner, get up," commanded rough voice.

Sighing, he obeyed and got up slowly. For now, he will do as they say. One of the bodyguards touched the wall of stone, moving and pressing their hands against it until they exposed a hidden entrance. Cyr had his fist in a ball, a bit ticked from not finding out about this earlier. His mood changed when he saw the look on Valen's face. The weakened Dark Elf glared at him as he grinned, knowing how he felt. To make Valen even angrier, Cyr blew a kiss and winked to him as he left his cell. Following the guards and Emperor, he still giggled about what he did just a few minutes ago until a guard told him to quiet down. They were in some old ruins. There was not much in the vacant ruin except for some light and dust. For a while, it seemed like things were looking smooth.

"Close up left, protect the Emperor," said the silvery voice that came from the Breton.

A few people in red and shiny armor dropped from some platform. The guards then entered combat with them while the Emperor was left with a skooma addict. "_Ah yes, leave the Emperor with someone who killed a guard_. _Good work you guys_. _The Emperor will surely survive this_," Cyr sarcastically commented to himself. There were so many people crowded fighting against each other.

"The captain's down!" shouted one of the guards.

The guard who died was the Breton. Her name was Renault. Cyr walked to her body and looted a sword she was carrying. The sword was different from the others he seen before. The blade was slightly curved. The grip was fancy too, just like their armor. The katana was a bit heavy for Cyr to swing around. It should have the same speed and reach of the average longsword. He gave it a few swings until he almost slashed the Emperor. Fortunately, one of his bodyguards blocked his attack. The bodyguard looked furious. Cyr was not worried about him though. He was worried about the Emperor. He did not flinch or even moved at all as if he knew that was going to happen.

"Don't worry, sire, we will get you out of here," spoke the deep voiced guard who blocked Cyr's attack. "You stay here, prisoner. Don't try to follow us."

They left Cyr to rot.

"Fuck you! So much for my lucky day, eh?" he spoke out loud to himself.

Behind him to the wall on the right, the ancient bricks began to move. There was a noise coming from behind it. Cyr turned around to give attention to it. He brought out the katana he just stole from Renault's corpse. Two giant rats popped out of the hole they made and attempted to pounce on the Dark Elf. Instead of using the sword, he kicked them against the wall.

"Stupid-ass rats…" spewed from Cyr's mouth.

"Such anger…" echoed a honeyed voice.

In fear, Cyr protected himself with the sword he carried. He quickly examined the ruins. There was nobody there. It must have been the voices he hears in his head again. He sat back down with his hand near his mouth in deep thought.

"I saw your fight with the Bravil guards. I was the one who flung the sword behind you. I must say, what you did to that guard was brutal," spoke the voice.

The voice came directly in front of him. Cyr sprung up from where he sat.

"Show yourself!" demanded Cyr.

The Woof Elf took off the ring that caused him to walk freely without anyone noticing him. The elf wore black robes. If examined closely enough, anyone could spot the blood stains left on the dark fabric. He also had on a black hood that covered some parts of his head. To Cyr, he appeared young and had a pair of green eyes.

"Uh, um. Who-wha-who are you?" the Dark Elf stuttered.

"My name is not important," he explained. "You will learn later in maybe a few years or so. I am the Listener for the Dark Brotherhood. Normally I let the Speakers handle this, but the Night Mother and I have watched you take the life of that guard you called a 'cocksucker'. She and I have been pleased by your work. That it was I come to you with an offering, an opportunity… to join our unique family."

"Yeah, I hear ya," Cyr replied.

"Have you heard of the Inn of Ill Omen, north of Bravil? The innkeeper is Manheim Maulhand. The inn is not that large. You should be able to find an old man named Rufio Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Unfortunately, I will not be there when the next time you sleep. A Speaker will visit you in your sleep in a location they deem secure, bearing the love of your new family."

"The codger will die!" the Dark Elf spoke.

"Yes… just what I want to hear. Now please, accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavors well. Now, I bid you farewell. We will meet once again in a few years."

The man in robes put on his ring and disappeared. Cyr was left again once more. To get out of here, he escaped through to hole the rats made.

An hour or so later, Cyr got out of the small tunnel that was filled with rats and goblins and back into the ancient ruins. Instead of wearing his old, itchy outfit, he had on some leather armor. They were not the best, but it kept him from getting cuts and bruises and anything else at least. He also carried a rusty iron bow with him. While just getting out of the cave, he spies the Emperor and his bodyguards. People in red robes came out from another platform to ambush them. Before one of them could jump off, Cyr shot one of them. Next, he jumped off from the platform he was standing on. The Imperial bodyguard was suspicious of him and unsheathed his katana. In response, he brought his weapon as well, his bow.

"No. He is not one of them. He can help us. He must help us," Uriel Septim ordered.

"As you wish, Sire," replied the Imperial guard.

Cyr got closer to the Emperor, feeling a bit pressured.

"They cannot understand why I trust you," he continued speaking. "They've not seen what I've seen. How can I explain? Listen. You know the Nine? They guide our fates with an invisible hand?"

"Um, yeah. The Nine. Guide and protect us and all," the Dark Elf nervously answered him.

"I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens," he explained. "The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder… which sign marked your birth? The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

"What about me?" Cyr asked.

"Your stars are not mine. Today the Thief shall guide your steps on the road to destiny," he finished.

After the conversation was done, they continued on. Cyr learned the name of the two body guards: Baurus and Glenroy. Baurus was the Redguard and Glenroy was the defensive, unpleasant Imperial. Baurus did not seem so bad to Cyr. Still, Cyr hated authority and felt uncomfortable around him. When the Redguard handed him a torch, he backed away a little but accepted it. Together, all four of them continued their way out of the ruins. The Dark Elf stood behind them doing nothing but holding the torch. The illumination of the flame did attract the ambushers, but it also helped them navigate through the dark ruins while exposing enemies hiding in the shadows.

"Prisoner, what's your name?" asked Baurus.

"It's Cyr. My name is Cyr," the Dark Elf spoke.

"Cyr, huh? Strange name for a Dunmer," he commented.

"Uh huh," he replied back.

The group traveled to another chamber of the ruins. It was quiet. Nothing was in sight except for ancient walls and floors. They were about to continue until Glenroy tried to open the locked metal gate.

"It's a trap!" panicked Glenroy.

The four of them went into the small room of the ruins that seemed to lead nowhere. Sounds from the footsteps of the assassins reflected and bounced across the ruins. The two guards unsheathed their katanas.

"Stay with the Emperor. Guard him with your life," said Baurus before charging into battle with Glenroy.

Cyr unlit his torch and brought out his bow. The Emperor stood there eerily silent, staring at the Dark Elf. The other responded by breathing deeply and twitting their fingers, hoping this would all be over soon. While they stood still hearing sword against sword or dagger, the Dark Elf turned to face him finding out that the Emperor was invading his personal space. Startled, he took a step back. Before the two of them could speak, Uriel Septim took Cyr's hand and placed the Amulet of Kings in his hand. The Dark Elf looked at what he assumed was just a piece of jewelry.

"Okay?" Cyr commented.

"I can go no further," Uriel Septim explained. "You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings! Take the Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

Cyr had stared at Uriel for a while until he noticed something moving behind him. His eyes widened when he slowly realized that there was an assassin behind him. Everything became slow at that moment. The Emperor stood still, staring at person who was soon-to-be assassin for the Dark Brotherhood. While Cyr reached for an arrow, the assassin struck him with one blow. The Dark Elf notched the arrow and aimed for his face. _Swoosh_! The arrow pierced through the assassin's armor, causing a thump to be slightly echoed. The elf stood still, looking at the two corpses with a blank face. Baurus rushed back in the small room.

"We've failed," Baurus said hopelessly. "I've failed… The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead."

The Redguard searched for the Amulet of Kings Uriel Septim was supposed to be wearing. The Amulet was not on his neck or anywhere else visibly seen.

"The Amulet," he panicked, "where's the Amulet of Kings? It wasn't on the Emperor's body."

"He gave it to me," Cyr said.

"Strange. He saw something in you. Trusted you. They say it's the Dragon Blood that flows through the veins of every Septim. They see more than lesser men. The Amulet of King is a sacred symbol of the Empire. Most people think the Red Dragon Crown, but that's a piece of jewelry. The Amulet has power. Only a true heir of the Blood can wear it, they say. He must have given it to you for a reason. Did he say why?"

"Something about another heir."

"Nothing I ever heard about. But Jauffre would be the one to know. He's the Grandmaster of my Order. Although you may not think so to meet him. He lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol."

"'Kay. Right. How do I get out of here?" questioned the elf.

It seems like he did not care what was going on.

Baurus sighed, "Here the key. It should open the door behind the locked gate. There'll be some rats and goblins. They shouldn't be that hard to handle for someone who's an… assassin?"

"**Agent**!" Cyr quickly corrected him. "Yeah, I'm an agent."

"I… I wasn't that far off," doubted the Redguard. "Anyways, Talos guide you. Oh, and I see you have the sword of Renault. Let me take so I can bring it to where it rightfully belongs."

The Dark Elf rolled his eyes and gave him the stolen katana and left. Baurus returned to Glenroy's body to retrieve his katana. Through the gates, he glared at the elf before he left. He knows that he is not one of assassins but know he is like one of them. Feeling upset, he stayed in the ruins.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Sorry this was short.


	3. Chapter 2: Need

**A/N**: I'm not in the mood... Sorry. I could've written this better. I just done.

* * *

><p>It was quiet in the northeastern part of Lake Rumare until a loud cheer echoed into the sky. A Dark Elf recently came out of a prison sewer, smelling of waste. The elf skipped his way to the Imperial City until he stopped after a few steps. "What now?" he thought. He had the Amulet of Kings in his hands, but he did not care for politics or whatever the Emperor was babbling on about. Next minute, he thought about the skooma den and broke down on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "They'll find me soon… They'll find me and kill me," he kept on thinking.<p>

He ran somewhere in panic. He was running down south where Bravil was at. After hours and hours of running mindlessly, Cyr notices he stopped at the Inn of Ill Omen. He entered the inn. There was nobody around except for some wooden furniture and some a Nord who had no pants on. The Nord's eyes were glued to him. Cyr walked to the basement, starting his search for Rufio there. While walking to the trapdoor, he made sure the Nord was not following him. His eyes watched all. Ignoring him, the Dark Elf went inside the basement of the inn.

There were two doors in the hall. Cyr unlocked the one on the right. Carefully and successfully, he opened the door. There was a figure lying down on the bed. This must be Rufio man. His clothes were an eyesore, but they looked better than the clothes Cyr had before. He tossed around, showing his shriveled face. His hairstyle was like those of a monk. Was this man a former monk? Curious, Cyr quietly snuck up to his bed. He gently placed himself on top of him without waking him up. With a smile on the elf's face, he grabbed his shoulders with care and then shook him violently.

"What? Who are-" spoke Rufio while trying to get up and speak. However Cyr was on top of him and pushed the old man back down.

"Hmm… I bet you get lonely down here," the Dark Elf said. "Do you want me to take off my clothes?"

The Breton gulped, "Will you listen to me?"

"Whatever you want," he answered.

After they had finished, they both sat back up and spoke to each other.

"Okay," Rufio spoke, "you may talk now and get up."

Cyr sat up and made eye contact.

"Now," he continued to speak, "who are you? What do you want?"

"Oh Rufio, I already got one of the things I wanted from you."

The Dark Elf pushed Rufio down on his bed. Still nude and weaponless, Cyr grabbed the pillow and began to suffocate him. His screams and cries were muffled. The old man barely had enough strength to fight back. Rufio's arms quivered when he attempted to push him back. When that failed, he tried hitting him. He was feeble and near death. In a few minutes, he was breathless. Cyr has successfully murdered him. He hid the corpse under the bed. Next, he tried sleeping. The elf tossed and turned. He was craving for skooma. Minutes later, he broke down crying until it put him to sleep.

It was dark when Lucien Lachance entered the Inn of Ill Omen. The Imperial was not seen yet because he still had either invisibility on him or chameleon spell on him. The initiate should be in the room where Rufio was assassinated. He went into the basement of the inn and entered the second room. The old door creaked, but it did not wake up the elf. On the floor, there were clothes and weapons lying around. No signs of blood showed that Cyr used the weapon that was given to him by Ungolim. Carefully examining the room once more, he spies on the figure hidden under the bed. It was an old man. The air suddenly became chilly when Lucien stepped inside. The elf shivered underneath the sheets. Gently, the human tapped on his shoulder, causing the other man to wake up. He jumped up from his bed, showing off his nudity. There were dark circles in the elf's eyes. Before Lucien could ask if he was alright, he remembered that some assassins and new members sometimes act like this.

"Greeting," the Speaker introduced himself while still making eye contact, "I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. Do you remember the Wood Elf who ordered the assassination of Rufio?"

Cyr sat back down and answered, "Yes, I remember the elf. He gave me a blade. I didn't use it though. I think you can make out what happened. Not sure what he did, but it is kind of hard to orgasm when you're having sex with someone who looks like that."

Lucien cleared his throat, "The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink. As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: 'Sanguine, my Brother.' You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva. We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following… your progress. Welcome to the family."

"Thanks!" shouted Cyr.

Lucien left first by using a chameleon spell. "Damn you stupid, sexy assassin… You weren't looking down there. That voice… Oh, fuck me," Cyr thought. He would touch himself, but he was afraid that Lucien was still there and might judge. He went to the pile of clothes he left and put his cheap armor on before leaving the inn. Sighing, he left to go to the sanctuary in Cheydinhal.

It was almost opening time for the shops when Cyr got to Cheydinhal. He admired the buildings as he walked in. Living here would probably cost a lot, and he was not good at keeping his money together. It was always spent on skooma. While walking to the abandoned house, he was a nasty looking guard captain. The man piercing eyes stared at the Dark Elf. In fear, he speed walked instead of running. He made it to the house and picked the lock on the door.

Dust flew around as he opened the door. It seemed like nobody entered the building in a while. There was nothing here except for cobwebs, barrels, and some broken crates. There was a third floor as well. He thought that this place could be good for doing skooma. Unfortunately, he did not have his good skooma pipe with him or any money. Returning back to the main floor and heading straight to the basement, he saw a red door that glowed. After getting close to the door, he noticed that there was blood on the floor as well. He did not bother wiping it off. They must be used to blood stains. Before he could talk to the door, he imagined what it would be like. They must have a torture room. Oh, he would love that. The thoughts of screams and moaning began to excite him.

"What is the color of night?" the door asked interrupting his dirty day dreaming.

"Sanguine, my brother," Cyr answered.

Cyr slowly opened the door and entered the sanctuary. He saw an Argonian waiting. She calmly walked towards him with a smile on her face.

"Greetings! Greetings!" she repeated herself. "I Am Ocheeva, mistress of this sanctuary. Lucien has told me all about you. Let me welcome you to the Dark Brotherhood! You stand in our sanctuary. May it serve as your new home, a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises. When you're ready for work, go and speak with Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for the new family members. But before you go, please accept this gift from your new family. A unique set of armor, lighter than normal leather and black as the Void."

Cyr held the light set of skin-tight armor she just handed him before walking away to do other tasks. It looked small, but Cyr was slim. He exited the sanctuary just to try it on. He looked at it again. He wondered if Lucien paid attention to his height and measurement, but he put on the armor anyways. Everything fit except it was slightly tight around his crotch. Was this done on purpose? At first, Cyr walked backed to the sanctuary with confidence but then felt embarrassed. Back at the sanctuary, he scurried to Vicente's room. The room was to the right of Ocheeva, following the hallway. When he opened the door, there was already a Breton with high cheekbones about to leave the room. His eyes were orange. He, too, was also very thin. Along with orange eyes and a skinny body, he was extremely pale for a Breton. Finally Cyr realized that the man staring at him was a vampire. He smiled at the Dark Elf.

"Warmest greetings to you. I trust you've already spoken with Ocheeva? I am Vicente Valtieri," the undead warmly greeted him. "I provide assignments for all new family members. Please do not let my appearance... unnerve you. The needs and Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire. I've… Are you alright? You're blushing as if you were embarrassed."

"Um, my name is Cyr," the elf introduced himself. "And yeah… I guess there's no hiding it."

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. Yeah. Yes. My outfit fits but there is one spot where it's tight down there," he answered back.

"No worries," the vampire replied. "We have plenty. Try on this one. Hopefully that would fit you."

"Alright, thank you Mister Valtieri," said Cyr.

"Please, you may call Vicente if you like."

"O-okay."

The Dark Elf quickly tried to leave the room until Vicente grabbed his hand.

"Where are you going?" the vampire asked.

"I was going to change," the Dark Elf answered.

"You can change here, Cyr. I will not look."

Vicente sat down on a chair, facing away from the elf. The new assassin changed his clothes near the stone bed. He quickly changed in fear. The clothes he wore perfectly fit him well.

"Thank you, Vicente," spoke Cyr.

It was rare for him to say thank you. He only thanked people who were kind to him. Sadly, they would rarely see him or be different the next day.

"You're welcome, dear… Forgive me for asking, but what is your gender?" politely asked Vicente.

"I identify as agender. I prefer being called neutral names, but I'll still use pronouns like he and male titles," he explained.

"Alright, dear sibling, you may have a seat if you'd like," he said.

The elf sat on the wooden seat across from Vicente. He was slightly blushing, but not as much when he was changing his outfit.

"I've heard so much about you through Lucien Lachance," Vicente spoke first.

"O-oh, w-what have you heard? Something good?" Cyr asked nervously.

The vampire burst out in laugher, making the elf feel ashamed of himself. "Define what 'good' means. I heard that you were a skooma addict and that you killed a guard. You called him a 'cocksucker' and pierced his face multiple times. I can imagine the amount of blood. Just thinking about it makes me thirsty… How did it felt?"

"Uh, I-I felt wild. I can't really remember well. Haha! Cocksucker… Mmm… I'd say something like that," he answered.

"You seem distract. Is something wrong?" he questioned.

"Skooma!" he blurted out.

"Oh, of course!" he said. "There should be a skooma dealer right outside the Imperial City, somewhere around there. Shady Sam sells them. You'll know what he looks like when you see him. A woman in this city named Oghash gra-Magul has skooma. The gang she's in is led by Dulfish gro-Orum, head of the skooma-ring here with ties to the Camonna Tong. I would avoid them. They're usually rude. Borba gra-Uzgash is an exception. I guess you could try to ask her for skooma."

"I. Need. Skooma."

"Cyr…"

Vicente wanted to say more to him, but he left in a hurry. He would have followed, but it was already morning. He got out a bottle of blood from his chest and drank from it. He sat back in his seat, waiting for Cyr. A few minutes passed by. Patiently waiting for Cyr, Vicente began reading the _Confessions of a Dunmer Skooma-Eater_. After reading the whole book for some hours, he went back to his stone bed to rest. Before he could close his eyes, he remembered about the Dark Elf. "Strange, he's not back yet…" Vicente thought. The vampire then checked around the sanctuary, including the training room and the living quarters. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Vicente," M'raaj-Dar got the undead Breton's attention. "Weren't we supposed to get a new recruit? I heard about it from Ocheeva. Something happen to him or her?"

"Them," Vicente correct him.

"Oh, should I bake them a cupcake to make them feel special? Or should I lick their boots? Whatever, the new recruit probably won't last long. By the way, when I enter through the front entrance, I saw some smoke coming from upstairs. Smells like someone was smoking skooma," the Khajiit informed.

"I'll be back…" he said.

"Wait, aren't we going to talk about my reward? What about- Eh, forget it."

Vicente rushed out of the sanctuary and headed to the top floor of the abandon house. What M'raaj-Dar said was right. There was smoke around the house. "Is it possible for me to become intoxicated by the fumes?" he thought. He found a pair of the shrouded armor that he gave to Cyr on the floor. Near his armor inside a bag, there was a sparkle that caught his attention. Curious, he went through his bag just to take a look. He was not going to steal it, or else he would face the wrath of Sithis. The necklace he took was an amulet. The gem in the middle was a red diamond. Around the gem, there were eight smaller gems. Was this the Amulet of Kings? "No, it can't be the Red Diamond. The Emperor was assassinated by someone else. This must be a rip-off," denied Vicente. Whatever he thought it was he placed it back. Next to the broken bookshelf, the Dark Elf held a skooma pipe along with no clothes on. His eyes were read, but Dunmer eyes were naturally red. He tried speaking to stoned elf, but he didn't respond. Cyr was alive but was too lazy to get up.

"Cyr, can you recognize me? Are you alright?" worried the Breton.

He just started at him blankly, sometimes blinking.

"I can't believe I'm doing this…" he spoke to himself.

The vampire searched around the area finding his underwear.

"Cyr… why do you not have undergarments?" he questioned him despite the fact he was high off of skooma.

"Oh, who's there? Under what? Under where? Ha, underwear… No. Don't have any," Cyr responded at last. "Needed the money for skooma."

Well now that he caught the elf's attention at last, he took his shrouded armor and began putting it on the nude elf before he passed out. To Vicente, it seemed like the elf did not seem to care what was going on. Of course the elf was focus on the skooma. He easily lifted the addict up. For someone who is probably a few inches taller than him, Cyr was light. Maybe it was Vicente's vampire strength. Whatever anyone thought, Vicente could easily pick him up like a piece of paper. The Dunmer was then carried back to the sanctuary. As the two of them entered, many people turn their heads to look at them. Antoinetta spotted the two of them and began smiling. Vicente sighed at her, knowing what she was thinking. M'raaj-Dar snickered, but he knew who he was laughing at. Ocheeva was talking to her brother, Teinaava, who was reading a book. He sniffed the air around him and looked at them. Gogron gro-Bolmog and Talaendril were walking together chatting and saw them as well.

"Hmm, I've never done that to you before," Gogron spoke to Talaendril before picking her up.

"Let me guess, Antoinetta has been gossiping?" questioned Vicente.

Their faces were blank.

The undead Breton sighed and said, "I'll take that as a yes. By Sithis, we only just met today and she still runs her gossipy mouth."

Continuing on, Vicente gently placed the sleeping elf on the chair where he first sat.

"Good night, dear sibling," he quietly spoke to him before he slept too.


End file.
